


The Road is Silent

by soup_pulp



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drabble, Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23592478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soup_pulp/pseuds/soup_pulp
Summary: The road is silent. The rubble of the asphalt crumbles and cracks under the soles of my shoes as I stand, leaning against the hood of my car. The night is cold enough to where my fingers are numb—itchy, tingling, then nothing, but that doesn’t bother me as much as I wish it did.





	The Road is Silent

The road is silent. The rubble of the asphalt crumbles and cracks under the soles of my shoes as I stand, leaning against the hood of my car. The night is cold enough to where my fingers are numb—itchy, tingling, then nothing, but that doesn’t bother me as much as I wish it did.

There aren’t that many streetlights in this part of the neighborhood, as much of a blessing as it is a curse when I can barely see anything in the pitch blackness where there’s no separation between the empty road I stand upon ends and where the night sky meets. My fingers twitch, my body aches, and for a moment I wished I’d pick up the bad habit of smoking cigarettes like all the other kids did when I was still back in high school. Perhaps I’d find something to do to kill time other than standing in the dark against my shitty car and waiting for the inevitable.

There’s a moment where I think about unlocking the car and sitting back in the driver’s seat, cranking up the heater until the sound of it overrides the dense silence between my ears that refuse to disappear. There’s a spark of temptation to do so, just for a moment, until I remember how long it takes for the heater to actually start working; until I remember that this frigid isolation of leaning against my car in a lonely, pitch-black neighborhood in the middle of fucktown nowhere was my own choice of action.

But it might as well be an act of self–punishment.

I shiver; every intake of breath is nearly painful as the air feels like ice against the raw, sensitive flesh of my nose and every unprovoked sigh feels like I’m just losing more warmth by the minute. My shoulders ache, and I wonder if my hips and knees will let out an audible, creaky crack if I decide to stretch.

What feels like an hour passes by, and there’s still no sign of life coming to greet me. I’m still leaning against the hood of my car, shivering and feeling pathetic, but I’m sure that I look that part even more than I want to. I take my phone out of the pocket of my jeans, the rough fabric feeling like nothing against my icy skin, and I nearly belt out a fucking curse when I click the home button of the screen and I’m blinded by the bright light.

The digital clock blares out the scrawny number of 4:32 AM and I don’t dare to look any further, especially when there’s no point in it. I’m waiting for him, but he’s not coming—I don’t know why I expected better from someone who claims to love me, but only when they need me.

I scoff then, weakly, to cover up the ugly cough. My eyes feel like tearing up, but I’m not shocked when I wipe them just to find that they’re bone dry. At that point, I don’t know what emotion is worse and which one will eat me up first: the anger and hurt of the betrayal, or the disappointment that hugs my body like a second skin as if I’m floating in a pool of water, clinging to my frame as if it’s pleading to just take me under.

I know better, I always do, but I wait for him anyway. _‘For a moment at least,’_ is what I think before looking back at the mouth of the road again where the endless rubble of black transforms into the gaping maw of the night sky. I hum, I sigh, I wait—

The road is still silent.


End file.
